


So Far Away

by ravenousbee



Category: To The Moon (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenousbee/pseuds/ravenousbee
Summary: He's somewhere far away from her, trapped in other lives they've both experienced together. It forces her to recite them all, just to piece his scattered shards together, to make him remember who he was and who he's not. After all, he can't be Neil if he's living countless lives at the same time.or:The patient dies as Dr. Watts is still using the machine. Memory loss concludes.[Discontinued for the while]





	So Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, hi again-  
> The idea for this fic came from the fandom's Discord, it was about how as a patient dies, a doctor is stuck there, and endures the brain damage. Now we considered it to be a messed up order of memories, some gone and some scattered.  
> This is- shamefully, the longest fic I've ever written. It's not that much, but ehh for me it is-  
> Enjoy! Optimistically there should be three Acts to this story, updates maaay take a lot of time.

Time’s running low, of course. It’s just another case where the infamous duo’s _awesomeness_ can’t help the patient survive for just one more hour. Pain’s pulsing around in his head, black stains in his view, and his eyes can only recognize his partner in the chaos. Eva looks troubled as much as he is, well what did he expect? They’re both in the mind of a dying person. Breaking memories, rattled figments, and voids of bright colors and pixels appearing around them.  
“N-Nei—” Eva’s weak voice reaches his ears, and he’s quick to turn to the direction of her echo, hands blindly, _painfully_ , searching for a trace of her body. “Hey, hey, reach out to me already, Eva!” Retorts Neil, hands still waving around for his partner. With a few groans and a lot of effort, Eva makes her way towards his arms, clinging on them tightly and falling onto her knees. Pain is visible on her young face, fear evident in her eyes, and Neil finds himself considering the impossible options to help her out.  
He could always log both of them out. In a matter of a second, actually. He’s the _admin_ , just the word and the system would shut down, freeing them of this hell. But that would mean they wouldn’t succeed. Another failure added to the list of his miseries. The patient hadn’t asked for much, “ _I just want to see my son one more time_.” He had told the boss. Reminded Dr. Watts of his own family, his own father, and he just couldn’t let the patient die without his wish granted. It seemed like a personal debt at this point, an unpaid debt to his lost family.  They’re not going to do _that,_ he decides. Perhaps they could continue to procedure. Go as far as they can. Risk it, risk the pain, the hurt, the damage, the _life_ they very much owned. His logic points to that path, to go on according to the contract, but of course, the heart of his speaks up. Lose your life? Lose your progress, lose everything you’ve ever owned? _You’ll be responsible for Eva’s life, as well._  
A shake of the simulated world and a crack in the matrix is enough to set his mind straight, and he once again looks down at the fragile, quivering figure in his arms. He has one option left. The option he would gladly take, the path he would take with few regrets. He was the admin of his own machine, his own interface. While Eva… Eva was a user. Dr. Rosalene is only signed in because _he_ allowed the system to hold her within. A single gesture and she would be logged out in no time, safe in a chair, helmet loose on her face. The glitches are slowly reaching the small surface they’ve left, and Neil Watts raises his hand with a hopeless smile. “… I don’t get paid enough for this, Eva.”  
His hand comes down, a red screen appearing before him, and Eva’s head shots up to look at it. “What are you doing, Neil? Logging us out?” Neil snorts, his hands swiping through screens and tools, to finally reach the system’s access point. Two names are visible on the screen, through the glitches. “Well, truth is…” he whispers, audible enough for Eva’s desperate ears. “…I’m logging you out.”  
His finger comes down before Eva can protest, and the machine quickly starts the process, removing Eva’s current data from the machine. “Wait- Neil what—You can’t do this _Neil you can—_ ”  
Silence engulfs the debris around him.  
The matrix’s crushed, and Dr. Watts gives out a sigh of relief, standing on his feet, trying his best not to fall and balance his sprite. Through the red flashes, his eyes are quick to search around for whatever memory link, whatever memento he can discover, and as soon as he spots a lonely object in the corner of this broken mind of this old man. It’s rather a scarf, a small one, as if it was made for a toddler. With a weak exhale and crossed fingers, Neil starts rushing towards the memento, the links within his hands. Fidgeting with each and every orb, trying to prepare the memento as quickly as possible, Neil finds himself thrown into an endless abyss. Dark, pressure on his eardrums, and he feels his heartbeat quicken, his breathes shorten and a weight appearing on his lungs. He’s finally thrown into the earliest memory they needed access to, the day the son abandons his father.  
Collecting himself from the glitched surface beneath, he takes a look around, his attention and focus grasped by the cold tone of a young man’s voice.  
“I’m leaving.” The man speaks, “This… I think this little briefcase contains enough money for mother’s treatment. I wish I could stay, dad, believe me.”  
Their patient’s eyes are filled with tears, streaks of the dried visible on his face. The scenery’s way too familiar for the mind of Neil Watts. _Don’t get too attached_ , Eva’s voice plays in his brain.  
“C-Couldn’t you just… stay? Louis, we have everything you ne—” “Dad.”  
The old man’s speech is abruptly interrupted by Louis’ voice, and a disturbing silence hangs between them. The memory goes on, ending with Louis putting the briefcase by the door and stepping out, turning into mere 0s and 1s.  
There’s another red flash clouding his vision, pain consuming his thoughts and a cold flash embracing his body. He pauses for a moment, calming his breath, and starts the hunt for memory links. While finding each and every one of them, he plays the process in his mind. A father, a sick mother, and an ill-minded son. Leaving his family because he was too afraid to face the truth, leaves what he believes is enough and neglects whatever he had in the old cabin their patient resigned in. _Stop it, fool_ , he whispers inaudibly to none other than himself, to keep himself from hiding in a corner of his own misery, striding towards the last memento with a new-found will. He’d go to the overworld after this, he’d line the mementos up and sends the signal. That’s all that is left. Soon, he’ll be out of the machine, removing the helmet from his head, Eva will scold him and shout at him for being a moron. A coffee and a ride later, they’d be at the corporation building, just like any other day.  
Pain, flashes, varying from red to cold, and finally, Neil Watts finds himself entertaining a floating head in the different stages of the patient’s life.  
“Alright now… let’s get y’all lined up.”  
There’re cracks appearing in the overworld, black and white static hovering at the edges, like tigers hiding for their prey, and all Neil is capable of is panicking even more as lines up the mementos. A green light flashes in the distant, and he gives off a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and rushes next to the single button awaiting to be pressed. Reluctantly, he pushes the button and patiently waits for the transferal. For a few moments, everything seems calm. Everything’s alright. The memories are lining up, and the satisfying sound of the system removes a huge weight off of his shoulders. Using the earliest version of their patient, he accesses the last memory, and commences the search for the patient’s son.  
“I can’t believe this whole clusterfuck would be summed up as “ _forgot to eject on external hard-drive.”_ ”. He chuckles, alone in the cabin. Dragging his weak body up the stairs, Neil finds himself staring at their patient’s son, sitting in a corner. The door to the room opens, and he swears he spots the old man’s figure for a moment.  
The cabin, suddenly starts shaking, the sprites of their patient dissolving into static and Neil finds himself falling again, falling through the broken cracks of the cabin, and a weak cry escapes his lips. The ceiling above him starts glitching into different sceneries, from the sky, and back to the ceiling. There are stains of red and static all over the place, and the heart monitor on Neil’s wrist is slowing down at a rapid rate. He knows what to do, he mentions to himself calmly. Log out before anything happened. They’ve made the wish come true, _he’s_ sent the signal and for now, everything’s _alright._ Just a few more swipes and he’ll log himself ou-  
Except that he can’t.  
Neil stares in horror as the screen in front of him malfunctions, error displaying brightly over it. The user page is giving off an error. The access point is no longer _accessible_ by the _admin_ of this world, and a cold feeling embraces his body, wrapping around him like an old friend. He’s stuck in the patient’s mind. A _dying_ patient’s mind, at that. His mouth slightly opens, short inhales and sharp exhales, his heartbeat chasing whatever hope he’s left. All that appears in his mind’s that he never got to say goodbye. The heart-monitor starts to gradually become a flat line, the sound of the patient’s heartbeat break into the barrier of his mind.  
The cabin around him starts to shrink into nothing but mere pixels and static, codes flying everywhere and for the first time in a long while, he starts fearing his own code. It’s attacking the edge of his own body, eating on his legs as the resort to 1s and 0s. It hurts, the pain subsiding into the core of his brain, and he feels _everything_ tear apart inside that mind of his. Senses, memories, names, dates, byte by byte, turning into useless static and _it hurts._ He falls onto his knees, hopelessly sparing a glance at the **Error** screen above him. He knows his end is coming. The memory’s falling apart, chaos engulfing the skies and Neil does his best to avoid any object that comes in his way through the strong-willed pain. His arms are slowly losing color, losing the simulated life, and all that is left of Dr. Watts is a mess of black and white pixels.  
In the last moments of his consciousness, Neil Watts leans back, his head looking up at the sky, and for a moment, he feels as if he’s staring into a sky well-known in his torn memories. A sky full of stars, with a youngster and an old man sitting beneath it, lost in the gravity of their distant friends.  
And soon, nothing’s left of the boy lost in the stars.  
_______________________________  
Dr. Rosalene’s hands shake as she takes off the helmet frantically, relieving her partner of it. Her breaths come in short, and she’s making too much noise with her exhales. Ignoring the mourning of the patient’s family as the heart monitor steadies a _beep_ in the room, her fingers trace the form of Neil Watts’ face, holding it up, remove those useless one-way mirrors, waiting for a sign of liveliness. There’s beads of sweat on his forehead, his palms are still shaking due to the spasms he went through, and a trail of blood slowly starts to make its way out of his nose. She’s panicking, body frozen, and she just stares at Neil’s inanimate lashes and the red warmth on his face.  
She’s pushed aside by the doctor assigned to their patient, and he quickly barks orders at the patient’s family to call for an ambulance, looks at her and shakes his head hopelessly. “Just… call Dr. Lin. We’re lucky enough he has a heart beating inside there.”  
Her fingers fidget around her pocket, desperately searching for her phone. Pulling it out, she dials the three first digits of Robert’s number and _thank god for phones predicting numbers,_ her hand was shaking too much to press such small buttons. A few moments that were dragged into years, Robert’s voice reaches her ears, and she never felt so relieved hearing it. “Hello? Eva, are you done with the patient?”  
Eva’s eyes roam towards the green light on the machine, confirming the transferal of the signal, and then they wander towards Neil’s unconscious figure on the armchair.  
“N-Neil was—Neil got stuck in the machine, look the wish was successfully granted but—Neil was in the machine when th—”  
“Eva, stop.” Robert says calmly, a hint of alarm in his voice. “Take him to the central hospital. We’ll get there as soon as possible as well. Just keep him stable, we’ll take care of everything else.” Without waiting for a reply, Robert hangs up on her, and Eva pockets her phone, meeting at the Doctor’s awaiting glance. “Keep him stable. Robert said we should take him to the hospital and… just keep him stable until they arrive.”  
She receives an understanding nod, and with not much left to do, they start carrying Neil’s fragile figure down the stairs of the cabin, and not much after the ambulance arrives, taking the unconscious silhouette away from them. Audible exhales pass her lips, as she tries to calm herself down, tell her everything will be _alright_ , since this is Neil Watts they’re talking about. He survives through anything, let it be by pills or by pretending. With that thought in mind, her quivering hands reach for the car key, and a few moments later, Eva Rosalene finds herself trailing in the same path of the crying ambulance, dark irises searching dreadfully for a sign of her partner conscious in the car, never finding one.  
Minutes on the road take as much time as a decade would, and finally, they reach the frightful pale building. Eva’s surprised to find Robert, Roxie and a representative from the maintenance department awaiting them in the corridors. Roxie, as soon as she notices Eva, jumps up from her seat to pull her into a comforting hug, rubbing circles on her back. “Oh dear! Don’t look so hopeless Eva, everything will be fine sweetheart!”  
Of course, the words have no effect on Eva’s heartbeat, if anything, it worsens it. Taking a deep breath, Eva separates herself from Roxanne’s welcoming embrace, and looks behind her, watch the doctors carry her partner away into an undefined section of the hospital. Noticing Rob’s sudden absence, she turns to find him discussing with a man in a white attire, most likely the doctor assigned to Neil. Concern is evident in Rob’s eyes when he comes back, and the three of them watch the doctor stride away in the same path as Neil. “They’re going to keep him in the ICU section… He’s, not stable, apparently. But then again, that’s all they could figure in the ambulance with few equipment.” He inhales, keeping her gaze locked for a few moments before continuing. “For now, let’s just wait for more tests to be implemented, I suppose.”  
Roxanne drops back into her seat with an ‘ _oof!’_ , observing Eva with concern. “Sweetheart, do you want to go home and take a break for the day? Rob here and I will hang aro—”  
“I’m not going anywhere, Roxie.” She says, and with mere doubt she can say it’s the only phrase she’s spoken without the slightest hesitation or reluctance. Roxanne’s mouth shuts, her head dropping in comprehension and her hands begin to fidget with her nails.  
Six hours pass. The trio are still in the long lost corridors of the hospital, sun has gone down and fatigue is clinging on the three labeled doctors. Coffee had lost its effect an hour ago, and Eva finds herself fighting the urge to close her eyelids _for just a few minutes_.  
Someone clears their throat, and three pair of tired eyes shoot up to spot Neil’s doctor, standing there with little discomfort visible on his face. “Neil Watts’ companions, am I correct?” Eva offers him a nod, saving some energy to talk later. “Well… I’m Dr. Sam, assigned to our patient here, erm, good news is, Mr. Watts is in a, rather stabilized stance. His brain activity was extremely high, but for the while being, it’s calmed down thanks to the sedatives.” He pauses for a moment, awaiting any sign of relief in the concerned sprites, but none is received. “…Moving on, the memory editor, if I am not mistaken, that Mr. Watts was utilizing during the impact, has left a few traces on his brain. Most specifically… we’ve detected damage in the limbic system… I’m afraid that we might have to deal with memory loss.”  
Memory loss. Ironic, considering they’re usually the ones who created the loss. And now, their chirpy co-worker’s most likely unconscious on a bed, his brain battling the memories that were kept safe and the memories that were torn apart. A painful gulp, and she finally decides to open her mouth to speak. “Can we by any chance meet him anytime soon?”  
The doctor looks at her, sympathy flowing into his eyes. “Yes, of course. Apparently he’s just gained consciousness, they’re moving him into a recovery room. Please, follow me.” The doctor motions for them, and starts taking collective steps towards the room where Neil was staying in. “We should be keeping his situation stable, so if you may, don’t give him much of an adrenaline rush when you talk with him. A lot of devices are connected to him to make sure nothing happens to him, but your co-operation would be appreciated.” Roxanne, in response to that gives a nod and holds her thumbs up. “Trust us, we know all about keeping patients stabilized.”  
Eva stays quiet, her heart pounding in her chest, trying to escape the boundaries of her chest. She’s too busy calming herself down by counting to ten repeatedly in her mind, to listen to the doctor’s explanations.  
An elevator ride later, they finally reach the recovery section. Room 215. A small piece of paper indicated that “Neil Watts” is resting inside. The doctor gives a gentle knock on the grey doors, and opens them calmly and slowly to reveal a blindingly white room inside. There’s a single bed, the maintenance representative is inside sitting in a corner, fidgeting with what Eva takes to be Neil’s helmet during the impact.  
And of course, the star of the show is lying down on the bed, ever so little flinching at the noises around him, or just moving his fingers around. . A ventilator is set up next to the bed, some unfortunate nurse is standing by his bed, injections on his arms and hands, at times pressing a few buttons on his heart monitor, causing the disturbing sound of _beep_ to go flat-lined for a moment. That machine’s shriek is just another problem of _Neil’s_ whichever _Eva_ should worry about as well. Isn’t it always like that?  
The doctor steps in, waiting for the three concerned co-workers of Dr. Watts to enter the room along with him. Roxanne’s the first who has the heart to step in, cheerily waving at the poor maintenance worker. “Hey Bob, how’re you doing buddy?” She takes a glance at Robert and Eva, gesturing them to come in as well as she goes next to the worker. “How’s the machine looking?” Bob looks up, eyes filled with despair and worry. “I… this machine’s literally made up of spare parts, Rox. It’s pretty neat, actually but—I have no idea how our guys didn’t confirm the build of this specific serial. And point is I’m not finding anything wrong with it, I don’t know how it could’ve hurt Dr. Wa—” Roxanne stops him before he rambles on, patting him on the shoulder. “How about, you go down for a moment, get something to eat and come back up? I’ll work on this crap while you’re gone, dear.” Suddenly energized, Bob mutters a quick word of gratitude and runs out of the room’s half-open door. Roxanne drops on the chair, quickly booting up the machine, pressing a few keys and grabbing a few tools.  
Robert quickly moves on to get to Roxanne’s side, leaving Eva alone by Neil’s bed. Her hands are shaking. When did she ever start shaking due to stress…? The doctor glances at her, gives her a nod and moves onto Neil’s side, some paperwork and a pen in his hands.  “Sir, can you hear me?” The doctor spells out gently, his voice soft enough for Neil to hear and not be bothered. A weak, audible groan escapes her partner’s mouth, and the doctor decides to take it as a positive answer. “Well! Let’s begin the infamous process together, huh? This is Dr. Sam, We have a little test to take care of sir.”  
To that, Neil offers a nod as he slowly opens his eyes, blinking rapidly to block out the blinding light. Robert and Roxanne have stopped whispering, Roxanne’s hands subconsciously working out with the machine while her blue eyes are locked on the other technician’s figure.  
“Could you please give me a name?  
Her breath hides in a corner of her lung. It stays there, patiently waiting for her partner to tell everyone in the room his name. She can see Robert nervously pulling on his lab coat, and Roxanne’s let go of the machine at this point.  
After a few minutes, just as Dr. Sam starts to write a few notes, the technician specialist opens his mouth. “Watts. N—Neil Watts.”  
The breath she held comes out as an audible exhale, and Neil’s head slightly turns into her direction, emerald eyes staring into her dark ones for the slightest moment. She senses recognition. _Sees_ it, at least. Or she believes so.  
“Perfect!” Dr. Sam says, slight relief leaking into his tone. “Alright. Mind giving a birthdate, Mr. Watts?”  
“16 th of July.”  
“We’re doing so well, so far! Now, say, sir, what is the last thing you can remember?”  
Neil’s face is troubled. He looks lost, as if he’s back in the memory editor she lost him in. He slowly moves his body, even though the doctor’s hands reach out to keep him from moving, and a hiss escapes his mouth as he reaches out weakly for his face, shielding his eyes, as if it would shield him from the pain. “Erm,” he clears his throat, “…Static? And… stars. Glitches.”  
Dr. Sam’s enthusiasm is no longer evident on his face, Eva notices. He looks as if he’s deciphering the unfamiliar words such as _static_ in his mind. He lifts his head, gesturing towards the nurse to lead them out of the hospital room. Roxanne quickly jumps from her seat, grabbing both Robert’s and her hand, pulling them out, and rushes towards the familiar corridor.  
Once there, she stops, rubs her hands together and looks up at the confused traversal agents facing her.  
“…The machine didn’t really have a problem. But of course, we didn’t expect it to—” She paused for a moment, as if to rephrase her words in her head. “—but what the problem _is_ … Well, the machine failed to distinguish Neil’s brain from the patient’s, based on what I could find on the log.”  
Eva’s lips part, struggling to make out a few words. Perhaps even object, deny whatever Roxanne’s speaking of. “…But he remembered his name. He… he answered the questions—”  
Roxanne offers her an unnecessary smile, her pupils displaying pity. “Eva… he might’ve lost a lot of pieces, here and there. I—It’s okay, don’t pani—”  
“I’m not panicking,” Eva snarls, her trembling voice betraying her statement. Everything seems to be losing color around her. Only Roxanne’s blue eyes are staring right into hers, and all that beats around in her mind is Neil, trapped in a prison of static, surrounded by people he no longer recognizes. She knows Neil wouldn’t forget her. She’s almost sure of it, it’s just too unlikely for _Neil Watts_ to forget _Eva Rosalene_. She knows it.  
Even though she realizes she _thinks_ she’s aware, but rather deep inside, an unsure spirit is taking shelter in a lost corner of her mind. She remembers the flash of recognition. She observed the recognition, and she’s strong enough to believe in it, Dr. Rosalene’s strong enough to believe in it. The loose matrix of this universe would break if Neil Watts was to ever be separated from Eva Rosalene in his state of mind. Roxanne’s hand resting on her shaking shoulders, blue eyes locked into hers. They’re pitying her, she comprehends. Robert, Roxanne, Sigmund Corp, the hospital staff, they’re pitying her. She hates being pitied, she _despises_ being pitied. So with a cold gestures, she waves Roxanne’s hands away, clutches her lab coat and with a turn, Eva’s walking hurriedly towards the bright _EXIT_ sign, determinate to get out of this white prison before she breaks down.  
Ignoring Roxanne’s clueless call for her, she steps out of the hospital, gasping at the gush of cold wind that hits her. _Of course, it was winter, what else did she expect?_  
With weak and uncalculated steps, she drags herself across the parking lot to finally discover their lonesome company car, awaiting the doctors to step inside. Unfortunately, this one time, it’s only Eva Rosalene who’s driving the vehicle. She’s aching to get away from the hospital as she unlocks the car and gets in. Her will to stay has faltered from a few hours ago and all she has in mind is to avoid it all, avoid her oblivious partner lying on the bed, to avoid her co-workers waiting in the hospital corridors. It’s not that she’s afraid to face either. She’s not afraid to speak with Neil or discuss the conditions with Roxanne. She just needs to avoid the pity. She’s durable, never takes a crack on her graceful soul, during any case or any trauma.  
This isn’t _any case or any trauma_ , of course, it’s Neil, he’s definitely lost a few memories, if not most, and it’s breaking her, ever so slightly and ever so slowly. And she’d rather not lose her grip while exposed to her co-workers. She’s just going to drive home, safely, get inside her apartment, prepare herself a dear old cup of tea and tend to her plants. She said she wouldn’t leave him there, she said that with such determination that Roxanne Winters gave up her demands. Few hours later and she’s shivering at the doorway of her apartment, fingers barely holding onto the keys as she unlocks the entrance.  
A few minutes of struggling, the door’s unlocked and Eva finds herself too exhausted to change into more comfortable clothes, and drops her weight on the couch, blankly eyeing the ceiling. She’ll visit in a week. She’s planning on avoiding every single person from work, from family, from _Neil’s_ family _if_ they ever show up. She’ll call in sick, not through Robert but through the boss, and give herself enough time to acquire the courage to walk through those damned white doors again.  
She’s afraid, as much as it hurts for her pride to admit. She’s afraid of most things, hiding them and covering them with a mask of apathy. Fooled people with it, although she’s sure Neil Watts has surpassed her and broke through her cover.  
And now she’s frightened by the fact that she might be forgotten. Even if not her, shreds of her, fragments of her are all lost and scattered across Neil’s mind. He won’t see her as who she’s always been. He’ll observe her like a puzzle ready to be solved, he’ll observe her like a stranger.  
For the while Eva decides it’s for the best to remain unmoving on the couch. There’s a small plate filled with pieces of dark chocolate next to her on the table, and a half-full cup of cold, morning coffee. She’s slightly hungry, yet not cheerful enough, _not cheerful at all_ , to stand up and attend to her kitchen for a decent meal, so she declares to herself that until the next morning arrives, she’s going to survive on the few materials on the table. Moving to her side, she curls up, eyes averting from the ceiling and to the fabric of the couch.  
Her breathing’s uneven, her heartbeat’s rapid as ever, and fatigue clings to her body, pulling it down with itself. Eva Rosalene decides it’s for the best if she closes her eyes, rest, and battle the strain in the land of her unfortunate dreams.  
And so, she falls into a miserable slumber.  
  


 

 


End file.
